Aubade

This morning I saw the front
lawn for the first time, I
saw the grass and the garden,

 

I saw the street and the houses
slowly gain momentum
as they ran down it,

 

all the magnificent cars
of the century were headed
somewhere, they were

 

celebrating and they
didn’t even know it: they rolled
past, invisible flags waving

 

from antennas while the wind
confettied the street, and
the front lawn sunned

 

its brush cut, and the paper
arrived in its plastic.
And even the sky’s headlines

 

seemed happy to see me,
breathless with news
of their little blue world.